The Golden Storm
= The Golden Storm = Posted by : Winteroak on Apr 23, 2018, 5:21pm - August 21st, Rose District, The Golden Storm, Noon - Cyrus Anvil sat at his desk in his office at the Golden Storm, overlooking the two floors of his most successful business to date. He had purchased the Golden Storm 5 years ago and transformed the fortunes of the place almost immediately. It was now without a doubt the beating heart of his emerging empire in the Rose District. He spent more and more of his time within the walls of this place, to the point that he had started to view it as his own realm. The doors would be opening to his clientele in a few hours and welcome the elites of the city like it had done for the past few years. An immaculately dressed waitress entered his office with a plate of steaming meats and a bottle of wine and dropped it on his desk. She left as quietly as she arrived knowing that no one addressed Cyrus Anvil unless spoken to first. Pouring a glass of the red wine he pondered on how his many ventures were doing across the district. The wine had a deep body to it with mature cherry undertones to it and for a second he remembered how much it had cost him to acquire this particular vintage directly from Elesium. Well he was entitled to a few vices of his own. The Golden Storm was a gambling house that offered its patrons a myriad of first class services that few other establishment did under one roof. A bar with live music on the ground floor, where his courtesans encouraged the clients to spend money in alcohol and in the gambling tables. Farkle and Tenzi dice tables, roulette, a couple of Whist and Ecarde card games, popular among the regulars of Paramount Hill and Highholm. The 1st floor was full of small and private luxurious rooms where gentlemen and the occasional lady could engage in more carnal vices. Everything you could possible want was on offer at the Golden Storm. Courtesy of Cyrus Anvil. The basement of the establish was reserved for bare knuckle fights that Cyrus organised every two days, usually tournaments that culminated in high profile bouts pitting some of the most popular fighters in Dusk against one another. The end of the month was fast approaching and he bulked at the amount of coin that was due to the Clockwork King from his business profits. Of course he would have no problems meeting the deadline or put together the amount, in fact it was all set apart. He would have never flourished as much as he did in the underworld of Dusk if he had not made a deal with the enigmatic figure. It had been one of the best business decisions he had made. He grinned as he tasted the meat slobbered with thick gravy. Sometimes in the middle of the night he did wonder what would happen if one day he moved to challenge the Clockwork King's shadowy organisation. He would never share those thoughts with anyone. But he did like to think about it. The Clockwork King rise to power in the seedy criminal world of Dusk was stuff of legend and many still remembered the gang warfare he had waged against the Patchwork Man. He pushed such thought from his mind and considered what his next plans should be. The gambling houses were turning a tidy monthly profit as where the pleasure houses. His dens were attracting more and more quality patrons and his reputation for exotic novelties talked in hushed tones among those with coin to spend freely. His gangs in the Sprawl were selling Devil's Tongue and Ozone Runes faster than he could produce them. Business was good. So good that he was thinking of setting new supply areas, with the permission of the Clockwork King of course. He thought about Emma Gerrit and how the infuriating woman kept refusing his attempts to purchase her business. The Lady's Grace would make a fine addition to his expanding empire. He did love a challenge. Maybe he needed to exert a different type of pressure. He looked at a large brown envelope at his desk sealed with red wax. A well known and connected family in Highholm making contact by the usual means. Someone was in need of something different. He cracked the seal and a wicked smile spread across his brutish features as he looked at the most recent request. His his widen at the coin and assets being offered to ensure delivery before the end of the month. Cyrus Anvil was a traded of vices. If you had the coin he could get you anything. Anything your black heart and your wicked fantasies desired. It seemed a visit into the orphanages this season was in order sooner than he had anticipated.